


P.S. I Love You

by tomatopudding



Series: With a Thousand Sweet Kisses (I'll Cover You) [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anniversary, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, Presents, Short & Sweet, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), briefly, they're in love okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22164295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: Prompt: Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: With a Thousand Sweet Kisses (I'll Cover You) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420288
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70





	P.S. I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Find the the kisses prompt list here.
> 
> Me: I'll make this one a simple drabble.  
> My muse: Nah, fam.

They didn’t really have birthdays, considering that they weren’t so much born as created and time hadn’t actually been a  _ thing _ as of yet. But Aziraphale did so love to celebrate things, although rather than randomly choosing a birthday he chose to make a large celebration of what he considered the anniversary of their meeting. A date that just so happened to be exactly the same as the date on which they had finally gotten their heads out of their arses (as Crowley liked to say) and finally become “an item” (as Aziraphale liked to say and Crowley found embarrassingly adorable). 

In the days leading up to their second anniversary, Crowley noticed that Aziraphale started acting...odd. He was away from the bookshop more than usual, which wasn’t strange in and of itself but he wasn’t spending those extra hours with Crowley. Frankly, the demon was partly annoyed and partly despondent about the whole situation. If he called or called upon the angel he was just as likely to get a rebuff as an invitation. And while Crowley wasn’t generally a pessimistic person, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander in that direction. The angel was far out of his league, after all (and that was Crowley’s insecurities talking. In reality he knew where he stood when it came to Aziraphale and  _ feelings _ ). 

So Crowley blamed those thoughts for why when the time came that he was turned away from the door once again, instead of going back to his flat (to brood not sulk, thank you very much), he was determined to figure out what Aziraphale was doing. And what he was doing appeared to be outside of London (Crowley felt an odd sense of jealousy seeing Aziraphale get into another person’s car, even if it was a cabbie). It took an embarrassingly long amount of time for Crowley to recognize that they were approaching Tadfield, specifically a place he only had seen in passing: Jasmine Cottage. Another piece of the puzzle was in place. Obviously Book Girl was involved somehow (and there was another wave of jealousy. Why did she get to know but  _ he _ didn’t?). When Aziraphale furtively looked around before entering the cottage, it was the final straw. Crowley had been (kind of) willing to let it go, but now he had to know. 

He started simple, trying to sneak glances through the windows, but was quickly thwarted by the awful invention of window drapes. Trying to listen presented the same problem, the old cottage being equipped with abnormally thick glass windows. Obviously the next escalation was to sneak into the cottage as a snake and spying. He had gotten as far as working his way up to transforming (assuring himself all the while that he  _ would not _ forget how to change back, no matter what that anxious voice in the back of his mind said) and even finding an entrance point before he was thwarted again. It wasn’t obvious why until he transformed back (take  _ that _ anxious voice) and noticed the horseshoe over the door. Of course Book Girl would have some kind of ward against evil. Also, he resented that it kept him out at all. He wasn’t  _ evil _ , he was  _ devious _ . There’s a difference, you stupid horseshoe.

He sat himself down on the little bench in front of the cottage (again: brooding, not sulking), resigned to the fact that he would have to either lower himself to actually knocking on the front door and forcing a revelation of Aziraphale’s big Secret (capitalization absolutely necessary) or waiting until the angel chose to reveal it in his own time. The latter was well out because after all patience is a virtue and Crowley is a demon for Someone’s sake. Before he could actually do anything, the door of the cottage flung open almost in his face.

“I can feel you ruminating from inside,” Book Girl said, “Are you coming in or aren’t you?”

“Can’t,” grumbled Crowley, he pointed up, “horseshoe.”

“Anathema, dear, what are you--oh!” Aziraphale appeared at Book Girl’s shoulder looking surprised but pleased, “Did you follow me, darling?”

The pet name made Crowley blush despite his best efforts and he scuffed the toe of one snakeskin boot against the ground.

“No,” he lied sulkily. Aziraphale didn’t seem convinced, “What’re you doing here anyway?”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to flush (adorably, Crowley’s brain supplied), “Well. Anathema has been helping me with a little something.”

He seemed conflicted, glancing behind him and twiddling his hands in that Aziraphale way he had.

“I suppose...Anathema would you mind terribly getting me the,” he paused, “thing.”

Book Girl smirked knowingly, “Sure.”

She slipped back into the cottage leaving Aziraphale and Crowley standing on either side of the doorway. 

“So,” Crowley said, “been being sneaky, have you?”

“Just a bit,” admitted Aziraphale without a hint of shame, “To be fair, my dear, it’s rather difficult to pull one over on you. I thought I was pretty good at it, if I’m honest.”

“S’not your fault I notice everything you do,” Crowley mumbled.

“Do you really?” Aziraphale asked, his eyes crinkling in a smile like he didn’t know the answer. Or like he didn’t love the attention.

“So what kind of  _ thing _ have you been doing?” 

“If you must know, I was going to wait until our anniversary to give it to you,” replied Aziraphale, “but I suppose that a day early won’t hurt.”

Book Girl returned, a small cloth bundle in her hand, which she passed to Aziraphale before retreating back again.

“This isn’t exactly the most romantic spot for an anniversary gift,” Aziraphale said, “but like I said I wasn’t planning on giving this to you until tomorrow. I thought we might go to the botanical gardens.”

“We still can,” Crowley said, actually greatly looking forward to that. He did love his greenery.

“Do you remember how Adam reset everything that day?”

“Of course I do,” drawled Crowley, “I was there.”

“ _ Anyway _ ,” continued Aziraphale, “I thought that everything had been reset but it turns out that that wasn’t quite the case. The jacket I wore as, ah, as you, well I found it in my bookshop and there was something in the pocket.”

He unwrapped the cloth bundle to reveal a key. There was a chain going through a hole in the top and it seemed to have been covered in intricately detailed shapes. A closer glance revealed them to be a combination of Crowley’s snake sigil and Aziraphale’s own flaming sword and shield, but then Crowey noticed…

“Is this the key to the Bentley?”

“The original,” Aziraphale confirmed, “It seems that it escaped the reset because it was on my person at the time. And I know that you have a new one, but this one had been with you for so many years, I thought--mmmph!”

Any further explanation was muffled by Crowley’s lips as he practically launched himself at Aziraphale (well as much as he could with the horseshoe keeping him outside).

  
“I love it,” he said between kisses, “it’s wonderful. I love  _ you _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> 11:59pm still counts as being on the correct day. I swear.


End file.
